BOUGHT  FROM 
Laemmle  Donation 


watrtcal  Caricatures 


BEING  TWELVE  PLATES  BY 
W.  J.,  GLADDING 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  AND  BIOGRAPHICAL 
SKETCHES  BY 


LOUIS  EVAN  SHIPMAN 


^ublirfmonjSofCfjcSDuntop  Jwictp.   $eto  ^criejtf  l^o.  4. 
^etosiorfe,  1897. 


This  is  one  of  an  edition  of  two  hundred  and  sixty 
copies  printed  for  the  Dunlap  Society  in  the  month 
of  December  1897. 


£ 


PL&<y 


A  GROUP  OF 
THEATRICAL  CARICATURES 


A  GROUP  OF 
THEATRICAL  CARICATURES 


BEIN.G  TWELVE  PLATES  BY 

W.J.  GLADDING 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  AND  BIOGRAPHICAL 
SKETCHES  BY 

LOUIS  EVAN  SH1PMAN 


NEW  YORK 
THE  DUNLAP  SOCIETY 

1897 


f 


Copyright,  1897,  by 
Louis  EVAN  SHIPMAN 


INTRODUCTION. 


IF  it  were  the  intention  of  this  introduction  to  trace 
the  story  of  caricature  back  through  the  middle 
ages  to  its  primal  origin,  as  some  claim,  on  the  papyri 
of  the  Egyptians,  it  would  lose  much  of  the  brevity 
that  has  been  planned  for  it  and  serve  but  little  pur- 
pose. For  those  who  want  a  history  of  caricature 
there  are  numberless  Encyclopedias  of  art.  This  little 
foreword  is  merely  to  introduce  the  twelve  caricatures 
that  form  the  chief  interest  of  this  publication  of  the 
Dunlap  Society,  and  to  give  their  short  history  as  it  is 
known  to  me. 

In  1868,  a  Mr.  W.  J.  Gladding,  then  an  assistant  in 
the  famous  Fredericks  photographic  gallery,  drew  the 
caricatures  for  Colonel  T.  Allston  Brown,  in  whose 
possession  they  remained  for  twenty-two  years.  He 
disposed  of  them  to  a  dealer  in  theatrical  curiosities 
named  Walsh,  from  whom  I  purchased  them  in  1892  • 
that  is,  I  purchased  eleven  of  them —  the  one  of  Flor- 
ence as  Bob  Brierly  was  missing  —  and  for  that  mat- 
ter is  missing  to-day,  but,  curiously  enough,  Mr. 
Evert  Jansen  Wendell,  who  now  has  the  original 
eleven,  picked  up  a  photograph  of  the  missing  one, 


M205835 


^introduction. 


and  in  that  way  made  it  possible  to  present  the  com- 
plete group  of  plates. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  they  have  little  if  any  ar- 
tistic quality,  but  they  are  valuable  and  interesting  in 
as  far  as  they  give  the  likeness  and  characteristics  of 
their  originals,  and  this  they  do  surprisingly. 

The  rarity  of  theatrical  caricatures  is  really  aston- 
ishing when  one  considers  the  numberless  photographs, 
engravings,  sketches,  and  paintings  there  are  of  actors, 
but  few  even  of  the  largest  dramatic  collections  have 
anything  of  the  sort,  and  one  has  to  arrive  at  the  con- 
clusion that  actors  have  comparatively  been  very  sel- 
dom caricatured.  Whether  this  is  because  they  are 
in  a  way  caricaturists  themselves  I  don't  know ;  it 
seems  plausible  enough,  but  the  fact  nevertheless  re- 
mains, and  I  think  the  members  of  the  Dunlap  Society, 
in  having  these  presented  to  them,  can  congratulate 
themselves  on  the  possession  of  an  altogether  unique 
collection  of  plates. 

In  the  little  biographical  sketches  that  accompany 
them  I  have  aimed  at  no  particular  completeness, 
dwelling  only  on  those  incidents  which  seemed  more 
important,  and  on  occasion  giving  some  reminiscence 
or  anecdote  that  might  lay  claim  to  novelty  or  espe- 
cial interest.  I  commend  them  to  the  leniency  of  all 
students  of  our  stage  history.  To  others  they  may 
furnish  their  own  excuse  for  being. 

Louis  EVAN  SHIPMAN. 
THE  PLAYERS,  NOVEMBER,  1897. 


JOHN  BROUGHAM. 


JOHN   BROUGHAM. 


PR  nearly  forty  years,  as  actor,  manager,  and  play- 
vright,  John  Brougham,  save  for  the  period  cov- 
ering the  Civil  War,  which  was  spent  in  London,  was 
constantly  before  the  New  York  public,  a  public  no- 
where near  so  vast  and  conglomerate  as  that .  which 
supports  the  play-houses  of  to-day,  and  whose  re- 
lations with  its  entertainers  was  therefore  of  a  much 
more  intimate  and  personal  character.  And  even  in 
those  days  when  stage  favorites  were  favorites  indeed, 
Brougham  seems  to  have  been  singled  out  for  particu- 
lar approval.  Born  in  Dublin  in  1810,  of  gentle  fam- 
ily, he  followed  the  path  of  most  Irish  young  gentle- 
men, prepared  for  and  entered  Trinity  College,  and 
afterward  studied  medicine.  The  insidious  influence 
of  private  theatricals  was  too  much  for  him,  however, 
and  he  journeyed  to  London  intent  on  entering  the 
"profession,"  which  he  did  in  1830.  His  experiences 
for  ten  years  in  and  out  of  London  were  varied  and 
valuable,  from  playing  small  parts  under  Madame 
Vestris  at  the  Olympic,  and  later  with  Charles  Mathews 
at  Covent  Garden,  to  the  management  of  the  Lyceum, 
which  resulted  disastrously,  as  did  all  his  future  mana- 

3 


Caricature^ 


gerial  attempts,  and  from  the  writing  of  numberless, 
now  forgotten  farces  and  burlesques,  to  collaboration 
with  Mark  Lemon  and  Dion  Boucicault.  Indeed,  we 
have  very  good  authority  for  the  statement  that  he 
suggested  the  idea  of  "  London  Assurance  "  to  Bouci- 
cault, receiving  half  the  sum  paid  for  the  piece. 

His  first  appearance  in  New  York  was  at  the  old 
Park  Theater,  and  with  the  exception  of  the  interim  I 
have  mentioned  the  rest  of  his  life  was  spent  here. 
There  is  no  need  to  record  the  story  of  his  career  in 
New  York  :  older  members  of  the  Dunlap  Society  are 
familiar  with  it,  and  it  is  easily  accessible  to  the  younger 
through  Dr.  Benjamin  Ellis  Martin's  admirable  little 
biography  in  the  "  Actors  and  Actors  of  Great  Britain 
and  America  "  series. 

John  Brougham  was  among  the  last  of  a  group  of 
Irishmen  on  the  stage  that  for  personal  charm,  grace, 
and  humor,  we  will  probably  never  see  equaled. 
Tyrone  Power,  John  Drew,  W.  J.  Florence,  and  John 
Brougham  are  only  names  now,  but  the  memory  of 
them  brings  smiles  and  tears  to  the  old  playgoer's 
face  ;  what  have  we  youngsters  to  look  forward  to  ? 

In  conclusion,  I  have  thought  it  would  be  of  interest 
to  quote  the  lines  on  tobacco  from  his  most  amusing 
burlesque  "  Pocahontas  "  and  the  vision  of  the  new 
world  from  his  "  Columbus." 

The  first  he  delivered  in  the  character  of  "H.  J.  Pow- 
hatan  /,  King  of  the  Tuscaroras  —  a  crotchetty  mon- 
arch, in  fact  a  semi-brave."  It  is  in  this  part  that  the 
accompanying  caricature  represents  him.  The  apos- 
trophe to  the  pipe  is  this  : 


Cfjeatricai  Caricatured 


While  other  joys  one  sense  alone  can  measure 
This  to  all  senses  gives  extatic  pleasure. 
You  feel  the  radiance  of  the  glowing  bowl, 
Hear  the  soft  murmurs  of  the  kindling  coal, 
Smell  the  sweet  fragrance  of  the  honey -dew, 
Taste  its  strong  pungency  the  palate  through, 
See  the  blue  cloudlets  circling  to  the  dome 
Imprisoned  skies  up  floating  to  their  home. 

As  Don  Christoval  Colon,  alias  Columbus, —  a  clair- 
voyant voyager  whose  filibustering  expedition  gave 
rise  at  the  time  to  a  world  of  speculation, —  he  deliv- 
ered the  following,  the  king  serving  as  a  "  feeder." 

King.  Just  as  sure  as  fate 

He  's  in  a  beautiful  clairvoyant  state ! 
Columbus  !     Why  are  you  in  such  amaze  ? 

Col.         Time  onward  passes,  and  my  mental  gaze 
Is  on  the  future,  lo !  I  see  a  land 
Where  nature  seems  to  frame  with  practised  hand 
Her  last  most  wonderous  work !  before  me  rise 
Mountains  of  solid  rock  that  rift  the  skies, — 
Imperial  vallies  with  rich  verdure  crowned 
For  leagues  illimitable  smile  around, 
While  through  them  subject  seas  for  rivers  run 
From  ice  bound  tracts  to  where  the  tropic  sun 
Breeds  in  the  teeming  ooze  strange  monstrous  things  — 
I  see  upswelling  from  exhaustless  springs, 
Great  lakes  appear  upon  whose  surface  wide 
The  banded  navies  of  the  earth  may  ride, 
I  see  tremendous  cataracts  emerge 
From  cloud  aspiring  heights,  whose  slippery  verge 
Tremendous  oceans  momently  roll  o'er, 
Assaulting  with  unmitigated  roar 
The  stunned  and  shattered  ear  of  trembling  day 
That  wounded,  weeps  in  glistening  tears  of  spray ! 

King.      We  grieve  your  sensibility  to  shock, 


Cgcatrical  Caricatures 


See  something  else  or  down  will  go  our  stock. 
Col.          I  see  upspringing  from  the  fruitful  breast 

Of  the  beneficent  and  boundless  West, 

Uncounted  acres  of  life-giving  grain, 

Wave  o'er  the  gently  undulating  plain, 

So  tall  each  blade  that  you  can  scarcely  touch 

The  top ! 

King.      Ah !  now,  my  blade,  you  see  too  much. 
Col.         Within  the  limits  of  the  southern  zone 

I  see  plantations,  thickly  overgrown 

With  a  small  shrub  in  whose  white  flower  lies 

A  revenue  of  millions  ! 
King.  You  surprise 

Us  now,  we  '11  cotton  to  that  tree ! 

Go  on,  old  fellow,  what  else  do  you  see  ? 
Col.  Some  withered  weeds  — 

King.  Pooh  ! 

Col.         From  which  men  can  evoke 

Profit  as  wonderful ! 

King.  From  what  ? 

CoL          From  smoke. 
King.      Ah,  now  you  're  in  the  clouds  again.     Good  gracious 

Think  of  the  stock,  and  don't  be  so  fugacious. 
Col.          I  see  a  river,  through  whose  limpid  stream, 

Pactoius  like,  the  yellow  pebbles  gleam ; 

Flowing  through  regions,  where  great  heaps  of  gold, 

Uncared  for,  lie  in  affluence  untold, 

Thick  as  autumnal  leaves,  the  precious  store. 
King.      My  eyes  !  why  did  n't  you  see  that  before  ? 

We  '11  go  ourself,  we  mean  we  shall  "  go  in." 

Go  on. 
Col.  I  see  small  villages  begin, 

Like  twilight  stars,  to  peep  forth  timidly, 

Great  distances  apart ;  and  now  I  see 

Towns,  swol'n  to  cities,  burst  upon  the  sight, 

Thick  as  the  crowded  firmament  at  night. 

I  see  brave  science,  with  inspired  soul, 


€J)0atricaI  tfaricatureg. 


Subdue  the  elements  to  its  control ; 

On  iron  ways,  through  rock  and  mountain  riven, 

Impelling  mighty  freights,  by  vapor  driven  ; 

Or  with  electric  nerves  so  interlace 

The  varied  points  of  universal  space. 

Thought  answers  thought,  though  scores  of  miles  be- 
tween — 

Time  is  outstripped 

King.  We  're  not  so  jolly  green. 

My  friend,  come,  ain't  you  getting  rather  steep  ? 

We  beg  to  probability  you  '11  keep. 

What  see  you  now  ? 
Col.  The  plethora  of  wealth 

Corrupt  and  undermine  the  general  health. 

I  see  vile  madd'ning  fumes  incite  to  strife, 

Obscure  the  sense  and  whet  the  murderer's  knife. 

I  see  dead  rabbits 


which  goes  to  show  that  Brougham,  with  all  his  fool- 
ing, had  something  of  the  prophet  in  him  too. 

Eventually  Columbus  sets  out  on  his  perilous  voyage 
but  is  endangered  by  the  mutiny  of  his  sailors.  Co- 
lumbia very  opportunely  appears  and  quells  them  as 
follows : 

Enter  COLUMBIA. 
Colum.    She  's  here ! 

[Sailors  shrink  back  in  affright. 
Col.         I  'm  saved ! 
Colum.    What  means  this  horrid  din  ? 

If  it  's  a  free  fight,  you  can  count  me  in ! 
So  many  against  one,  now  understand 
To  aid  the  weak  I  '11  always  be  on  hand  ! 


€ljeatrical  Caricatured 


Col.         The  Indian  Empire  's  mine,  your  threats  I  mock 

Rebellious  -SVapoys,  now  /"have-a-lock," 

Will  shut  you  up ! 
Sane  ho.  Hallo !     My  precious  wig, 

Here  's  a  strange  craft  with  a  new  fangled  rig ! 

Where  do  you  hail  from  ? 
Colum.  Back,  senseless  crew ! 

'T  is  just  such  mindless  reprobates  as  you 

That  mar  the  calculations  of  the  wise, 

And  clog  the  wheels  of  glorious  enterprize ! 
Pedro.     Pshaw !  this  palaver,  ma'm  's  all  very  well, 

But  where  we  're  driving  to  if  you  could  tell, 

We  'd  like  it  better. 
Colum.    [To  Columbus].  You  are  not  so  blind 

But  in  the  passing  current  you  can  find 

Sure  indications  that  the  land  is  near. 
Col.         Within  my  heart  I  thought  so,  but  the  fear 

Of  raising  hopes  the  end  might  not  fulfil, 

Stifled  the  new-born  thought,  and  kept  me  still. 

See !    See !    What  's  floating  there  ? 
Sancho.  By  jingo!  greens! 

And  now  I  smell  — 

Pedro.  What  ?    Orange  groves  ? 

Sancho.  No,  pork  and  beans  ! 
Pedro.      Hogs  !  then  hurrah !  our  tribulation  ends, 

It  's  very  clear^we  're  getting  among  friends ! 
Bartol.    Look,  look,  here  's  something  else  now  passing  by. 

\_They  fish  up  a  piece  of  Connecticut  pastry. 
All.  What  is  it? 

Colum.    What,  you  pumps,  why  pumpkin-pie ! 
Sancho.  What 's  this  ? 

{Fishes  up  immense  walking-stick  with  knobs  on  it. 
A  knobby  stick ;  and  on  the  knob 

Inscribed  distinctly  — 
All.  What? 


€J)catricaI  Caricature^ 


Sane  ho.  "  The  Empire  Club. 

"  The  owner  fitly  will  reward  the  finders 

"  If  it  's  returned  —  " 
All.  To  whom  ? 

Sancho.  "  To  Marshall  Rynders." 

[  A  Play-Bill  is  fished  up. 

All.  What's  this? 

Colum.    A  bill  of  Burton's  Theatre,  you  noodles  ! 

Col.          What  are  they  doing  now  there  ? 

Colum.   "  Sleek  and  Toodles." 

Col.  I  hear  the  birds. 

Colum.    They  're  cat-birds  if  you  do. 

Col.         The  cat-bird's  song  must  be  "  the  wild  sea-mew," 
There  's  music  somewhere  nigh. 

Colum.  Don't  be  emphatic, 

It 's  Dodworth's  band  on  board  the  Adriatic, 
She  '11  pass  us  soon  upon  her  trial  trip, 
Look  at  her  well,  Columbus,  such  a  ship 
You  never  saw — and  never  will,  I  swow, 
Unless  he  dream  it,  as  he/s  doing  now. 

[  The  Adriatic  passes  across,  the  Band  playing  "  Yankee  Doodle."1 

Colum.    See  where  she  steams  majestically  down. 

Sancho.  My  eyes  and  limbs,  why,  it  's  a  floating  town  ! 

Col.         Right  against  wind  and  tide  and  not  a  sail, 
The  Flying  Dutchman,  that  is,  without  fail : 
Hurrah  !  look  there,  I  '11  take  my  oath  I  spy  land ! 

Colum.  Of  course  you  do. 

Col.         What  is  it  ? 

Colum.  Coney  Island ! 

[All  the  sailors  cluster  around  Columbus. 

Sancho.  Oh,  glorious  admiral,  upon  our  knees 

We  ask  forgiveness  — 
Col.  See  what  men  are  these 

Attired  in  such  extraordinary  style  ? 


io  €l)eatrical  Caricature^ 

Colum.    They  are  the  magnates  of  Manhatta's  Isle. 

Every  distinguished  guest  they're  bound  to  meet 
And  feed  —  Don't  fear,  they  can  afford  to  treat, 
For  hospitality  's  a  public  trait, 
Therefore  the  public  can't  object  to  pay. 

These  are  but  specimens  of  Brougham's  fooling, 
taken  at  random.  There  are  hundreds  of  others 
equally  good,  and  it  seems  to  me  they  might  well 
bear  resuscitation. 


•Jofin  Hester  MDallacli, 


JOHN  LESTER    WALLACK. 


JOHN   LESTER   WALLACK. 


THERE  is  no  name  more  intimately  or  more 
proudly  connected  with  the  American  stage  than 
that  of  Wallack.  From  the  year  1818,  when  the  elder 
Wallack,  James  William,  made  his  first  appearance  in 
America  at  the  Park  Theater,  down  to  the  present 
time,  the  Wallack  family  has  been  represented  on  the 
play-bills  of  our  theaters  almost  continuously.  It  was 
only  yesterday  that  I  saw  on  a  Philadelphia  bill  of  a 
play  called  "  A  Ward  of  France,"  the  name  of  Lester 
Wallack,  the  grandson  of  the  subject  of  this  little 
sketch. 

John  Johnstone  Wallack,  or,  as  most  of  his  biogra- 
phers have  it,  John  Lester  Wallack,  was  born  in  New 
York  in  the  year  1820,  on  the  first  visit  of  his  father 
and  mother  to  this  country.  He  was  taken  back  to 
England  while  still  an  infant,  and  his  childhood  and 
youth  were  passed  in  that  country ;  the  effects  of  the 
training  and  associations  of  his  early  life  were  very 
marked  always,  and  his  extreme  partiality  for  persons 
and  things  English  was  always  noticeable. 

He  was  intended  for  the  army,  but  the  family  tradi- 
tion pushed  aside  all  thought  of  arms  as  a  profession, 

13 


14  €fjeatritai  Caricature^ 

and  he  commenced  his  apprenticeship  by  the  usual 
provincial  routine,  which  finally,  in  1846,  led  to  a 
London  engagement  at  the  Haymarket,  under  Web- 
ster's management.  It  was  in  the  next  year  that  he 
made  his  first  appearance  in  New  York  at  the  old 
Broadway  Theater,  in  the  character  of  Sir  Charles 
Coldstream  in  "  Used  Up."  Then,  and  for  years  after, 
in  fact  until  the  opening  of  the  second  Wallack's 
Theater  —  what  is  now  the  Star  —  in  1861,  his  name 
appeared  on  all  bills  as  "  Mr.  Lester."  And  for  the 
next  six  years  this  "  Mr.  Lester,"  now  at  the  Bowery, 
next  at  Burton's,  then  at  Niblo's,  and  almost  every 
other  theater  in  the  town,  began  to  build  the  reputa- 
tion that  will  carry  his  name  forward  in  dramatic 
annals  as  one  of  the  most  charming,  dashing,  and  facile 
comedians  that  ever  graced  the  stage. 

In  1852  his  father  opened  the  first  Wallack's  Thea- 
ter, at  Broadway  and  Broome  Street,  and  he  joined  his 
fortunes  with  the  house  that  eventually  became  so 
closely  identified  with  himself.  Here  for  nine  years 
he  ranged  through  comedy,  farce,  and  melodrama, 
even  trying  his  hand  at  dramatization  with  no  little 
success.  His  best  known  and  most  successful  play, 
"  Rosedale,"  was  produced  after  the  move  from 
Broome  Street  to  Thirteenth  Street  and  Broadway, 
which  took  place  in  1861.  I  had  the  pleasure  once, 
when  a  lad  of  fifteen  or  sixteen,  of  seeing  him  as  Elliot 
Gray  in  that  play,  and  I  still  have  a  vivid  impression 
of  the  gallant,  comely  figure  he  made.  The  good  for- 
tune was  mine,  too,  to  see  him  several  times  later,  and 
I  particularly  remember  him  as  Young  Marlow  in  "  She 


CfteatricaJ  Caricature^  15 

Stoops  to  Conquer,"  and  as  Colonel  White  in  "  Home." 
Always  delightfully  cool  and  self-possessed,  with  the 
well-bred,  well-poised  manner  of  the  experienced  gen- 
tleman, it  causes  no  wonder,  as  one  reads  now,  that 
he  was  the  idol  of  the  town.  His  father  dying  in 
1864,  the  management  of  the  theater  devolved  upon 
him,  and  for  nearly  twenty  years  he  bent  his  best  ener- 
gies to  giving  the  public  a  theater  that  was  a  credit  to 
its  intelligence  and  taste.  There  was  no  place  for  the 
speculative  manager  in  those  days :  he  is  a  modern 
product,  and  the  worst  I  can  say  of  him  is  that  the 
modern  playgoer  deserves  him !  Lester  Wallack  lived 
to  see  the  new  order  of  things,  but  as  long  as  his 
hand  was  at  the  managerial  helm,  there  was  no  lower- 
ing of  standards. 

On  January  4,  1882,  Wallack's  made  its  last  move 
to  the  corner  of  Thirtieth  Street  and  Broadway.  Les- 
ter Wallack  retained  the  management  until  1887,  act- 
ing occasionally  there,  but  more  frequently  "  starring  " 
in  other  cities.  His  last  appearance  as  an  actor  was 
May  29,  1886,  at  the  Grand  Opera  House,  over  on 
Twenty-third  Street  and  Eighth  Avenue.  He  played 
Young  Marlow  with  John  Gilbert  and  Madame 
Ponisi  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hardcastle.  Two  years  later, 
on  the  night  of  May  21,  after  a  most  wonderful  per- 
formance of"  Hamlet,"  given  by  his  fellow-players  in 
his  honor,  he  made  the  last  speech  the  public  —  his 
public  —  were  ever  to  hear.  I  can  remember  now 
the  erect  figure,  with  the  almost  leonine  head  covered 
with  white,  leaning  slightly  on  the  table  at  his  side, 
and  speaking  the  last  words  to  the  enormous  audience 


16  €{>eatrical  Caricature^ 

that  was  there  to  greet  him.  The  occasion  had  more 
than  ordinary  significance :  it  was  a  visible  passing  of 
the  old  order  of  things  dramatic,  and  the  feeling  with 
which  he  made  his  adieux  was  communicated  to 
those  who  sat  before  him.  They  were  not  to  look 
upon  his  like  again.  He  died  the  following  September. 


<£btoin  jforregt 


EDWIN  FORREST. 


EDWIN    FORREST. 


IF  the  reader  will  scrutinize  the  Forrest  plate  care- 
fully, he  will  make  out  the  dim  penciled  inscrip- 
tion underneath  the  figure.  "  The  Great  head  Centre," 
it  reads,  and  though  written  with  comic  intent,  it 
serves  admirably  as  a  terse  description  of  Forrest's 
position  on  the  American  stage.  In  his  day  he  was 
"  The  Great  head  Centre." 

He  was  born  in  Philadelphia  in  1806,  and  when  but 
a  lad  of  fourteen  made  his  first  public  appearance  as 
Young  Norval  in  "  Douglas."  The  success  of  the 
boy  was  such  that  he  was  permitted  to  choose  the 
stage  as  his  profession,  and  while  the  drudgery  of  his 
novitiate  was  no  less  irksome  to  him  than  to  the  many 
others  who  have  traveled  the  same  path,  yet  recogni- 
tion and  success  came  to  him  earlier. 

He  played  "  Othello "  at  the  Bowery  Theater  in 
1826,  and  reached  in  one  night  the  top  round.  His 
success  was  assured  and  fortune  smiled  upon  him. 
In  1834  he  went  abroad  and  again  in  1836,  when  his 
success  in  London  in  such  characters  as  Spartacus, 
Lear,  Macbeth,  and  Othello,  was  extraordinary.  It 
was  during  this  visit  to  England  that  he  became  en- 
gaged to  and  married  Miss  Catherine  Sinclair. 
19 


20 


Cl)ratrical  Caricature^* 


His  return  to  America  was  made  almost  a  matter 
of  national  importance  and  his  tour  of  the  principal 
cities  was  a  triumphant  progress  of  the  nation's  greatest 
actor.  Then  followed  eight  or  nine  years  of  uninter- 
rupted prosperity,  during  which  fortune  kept  pace 
with  his  fame.  He  went  to  London  again  in  1845, 
and  there  the  clouds  began  to  gather  that  eventually 
embittered  and  broke  his  life.  On  his  opening  night 
he  was  received  with  hisses,  and  a  few  nights  later  he 
was  compelled  to  close  his  engagement. 

Forrest  furiously  charged  Macready,  the  great  Eng- 
lish actor,  with  this  attempt  to  drive  him  from  the 
London  stage,  and  some  weeks  later  took  occasion  to 
publicly  show  his  feelings  by  hissing  Macready  during 
a  performance  of  "  Hamlet "  in  the  provinces.  This 
was  the  beginning  of  the  quarrel  that  a  few  years 
later,  in  1848,  on  the  occasion  of  Macready's  next 
visit  to  America,  resulted  so  tragically. 

From  the  first  moment  of  the  English  actor's 
arrival  theater-goers  were  divided  into  two  hostile 
camps.  Macready  made  foolish  speeches  before  the 
curtain,  and  Forrest  made  bitter  responses.  It  all 
culminated  on  the  night  of  May  10,  1849,  when 
Macready  was  playing  in  "  Macbeth  "  at  the  Astor  Place 
Opera  House.  The  theater  was  surrounded  by  a 
howling,  senseless  mob,  who  almost  demolished  the 
building  with  a  storm  of  missiles.  The  Seventh  Regi- 
ment had  been  called  out  as  a  precautionary  measure, 
and  when  the  rioters  were  ordered  to  disperse,  they 
turned  furiously  upon  the  troops  and  attacked  them. 
Thirty  of  the  rabble  were  killed,  and  many  of  the 


£ftratrieal  Caricature^.  21 

soldiers  were  seriously  hurt,  among  them  Mr.  Douglas 
Taylor,  then  a  young  private  in  the  Seventh,  now 
President  of  the  Dunlap  Society  —  a  link  with  the 
past  that  serves  wonderfully  to  keep  alive  the  realiza- 
tion that  this  was  all  but  yesterday.  Macready  es- 
caped to  Boston  and  returned  to  England,  profoundly 
affected  by  the  terrible  ending  of  the  petty  quarrel, 
while  Forrest  was  no  less  shocked  at  its  fatal  outcome. 

Only  a  few  years  were  to  pass  till  the  other  great 
tragedy  of  Forrest's  life,  his  divorce,  took  place.  I 
mention  it  here  simply  because  it  was  an  extraordi- 
nary case,  contested  with  great  bitterness  and  determi- 
nation on  both  sides,  and  resulting,  as  it  did,  disastrously 
to  Forrest,  who  brought  the  original  suit,  had  a  tre- 
mendous influence  over  his  future  career.  I  go  into 
no  details,  for  they  are  given  at  length  in  Alger's 
admirable  life.  To  Mrs.  Forrest  alone  was  granted  a 
divorce,  and  the  fees  which  Forrest  was  forced  to  pay 
amounted  to  nearly  two  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
His  pride  was  somewhat  assuaged,  however,  by  the 
tremendous  outburst  of  enthusiasm  which  everywhere 
greeted  his  return  to  the  stage,  but  his  spirit  was  never 
the  same  afterward. 

He  toured  the  country  for  several  years,  but  eventu- 
ally retired  to  his  home  in  Philadelphia  for  a  well- 
earned  rest,  and  it  was  in  an  ill-advised  moment  that 
four  years  later  he  emerged  into  public  once  more. 
His  success  was  enormous,  and  he  played  in  "  Ham- 
let," "Lear,"  "  Othello,"  "Richard  III,"  "The  Gladi- 
ator," "Damon  and  Pythias,"  "Richelieu,"  "Jack 
Cade,"  "Virginius,"  and  "Metamora"  at  Niblo's 


22 


€J)eatrical  Caricature^ 


Garden  to  a  generation  of  theater-goers  that  knew 
him  only  by  reputation;  but  already  his  wonderful 
powers  were  on  the  wane,  and  the  succeeding  years 
found  them  dwindling  away,  until  there  was  but  a 
spark  of  the  old  fire  left  when  he  made  his  last  ap- 
pearance as  an  actor  in  Boston  at  the  Globe  Theater, 
April  2,  1872.  "Richelieu"  was  the  play,  and  the 
curtain  fell  on  the  prophetic  line :  "  So  ends  it." 

He  died  on  September  i2th  of  the  same  year  in 
Philadelphia.  The  Forrest  Home  for  aged  actors,  in 
Philadelphia,  which  he  amply  endowed,  is  a  memorial 
to  the  man's  generosity.  His  genius  as  an  actor  is 
little  more  than  a  memory  now.  But  it  is  a  duty  for 
all  chroniclers  of  the  American  stage  to  pass  on  the 
tradition  of  his  greatness.  He  was  a  great  actor  and 
worthy  of  that  tradition. 


EDWIN  BOOTH. 


EDWIN    BOOTH. 


TT  would  seem  that  the  last  necessary  word  had  been 
L  written  about  Edwin  Booth.  What  with  the  ample 
and  sympathetic  "  Life  "  by  William  Winter,  and  the 
reminiscences  of  various  friends  that  have  appeared  in 
one  form  or  another  at  different  times  recently,  there 
seems  little  if  anything  left  to  say.  And  yet  in  this 
group  of  twelve,  there  is  no  man  about  whom  it  would 
give  me  such  pleasure  to  write.  I  have  distinct  and 
vivid  impressions  of  many  of  the  occurrences  of  the 
last  few  years  of  his  life,  and  I  treasure  immensely  the 
remembrance  of  those  last  gentle  months  which  he 
spent  at  the  Players.  Of  course,  I  was  but  one  of  a 
mixed  many  that  passed  before  him  in  those  days,  but 
I  have  the  special  memory  of  several  anecdotal  winter 
afternoons,  spent,  with  only  two  or  three  others,  in 
company  with  the  Master.  His  favorite  nook  in  the 
Players  was  a  corner  in  the  front  of  the  reading-room, 
and  there,  ensconced  in  a  huge  grandfather  chair,  he 
spent  many  an  afternoon  in  the  winter  of  1892-93; 
dropping  at  times  into  delightful  reminiscence,  and 
then  again  showing  a  lively  interest  in  the  events 
of  the  day.  Always  cheerful,  simple,  courteous,  and 
4  25 


26  Cleatticai  4taricatutc* 


sympathetic,  the  brave  gentleman,  weighed  with  the 
burden  of  ill-health,  won  the  affection  of  all  who 
had  the  happy  chance  of  knowing  him.  But  I  run  far 
ahead  of  my  story  —  or  rather  his  —  and  I  must  give 
the  full  quota  of  biographical  dates  that  is  called  for 
by  a  sketch  of  this  sort,  or  be  charged  with  neglect  of 
duty. 

Edwin  Thomas  Booth  was  born  at  Belair  in  Har- 
ford  County,  Maryland,  in  1833.  His  father,  Junius 
Brutus  Booth,  was  one  of  the  great  tragedians  of  the 
early  part  of  the  century,  being  rivaled  only  by  Kean 
himself.  He  was  thirty-seven  years  old  at  the  time  of 
Edwin's  birth,  and  at  the  height  of  his  power  and  suc- 
cess. At  a  very  early  age  Edwin  became  the  com- 
panion of  his  father  on  the  latter's  professional  tours 
about  the  country,  and  there  grew  up  between  the  two 
an  extraordinary  attachment  that  had  a  lasting  and 
important  influence  on  the  younger  man's  life.  The 
somber,  erratic  genius  of  the  father  stamped  itself  on 
the  impressionable  and  sympathetic  boy,  whose  tem- 
perament and  nature  were  much  akin  to  his  parent's. 

When  but  sixteen  years  old  he  made  his  first  ap- 
pearance on  the  stage  at  the  Boston  Museum,  playing 
Tressel  to  his  father's  Richard  ///,  and  very  success- 
fully, too  ;  and  not  very  long  afterward  he  played  the 
part  of  Richard  himself  at  the  National  Theater,  New 
York. 

In  1852  he  was  playing  in  California  with  his  father, 
who  shortly  died,  leaving  Edwin  and  an  older  brother, 
Junius  Brutus  Booth,  Jr.,  playing  together  in  the  West. 
They  journeyed  to  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  even  as 


€ljeatrital  Caricatured  27 

far  as  Australia,  then  back  again  to  California,  steadily 
learning  and  improving  in  the  actor's  bitter  school  of  ex- 
perience. Boston  was  the  scene  of  his  first  appearance 
as  a  "  star."  In  the  spring  of  1857  he  played  Sir  Giles 
Overreach,  and  was  splendidly  successful.  The  follow- 
ing month  he  played  Richard  III.  at  the  Metropolitan 
Theater  in  New  York,  and  there  established  himself 
as  the  coming  tragedian.  Forrest's  star  was  on  the 
wane;  the  elder  Wallack  was  playing  his  farewell 
engagements,  and  there  were  no  other  rivals  in  the 
field,  which  was  soon  to  be  his  alone,  and  over  which 
he  held  undisputed  sway  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

In  1860  he  married  Miss  Mary  Devlin,  and  in  the 
following  year  made  his  first  visit  to  England.  Open- 
ing at  the  Haymarket  in  the  "  Merchant  of  Venice," 
he  played  a  round  of  the  stock  characters,  with  but 
indifferent  success,  until  at  the  end  of  his  engagement 
"  Richelieu  "  was  produced.  In  that  he  made  a  de- 
cided impression,  but  he  was  unable  to  follow  it  up, 
as  he  was  compelled  to  return  to  the  States.  His  wife 
died  in  1863,  a  tremendous  blow  that  found  its  only 
alleviation  in  hard,  all-engrossing  work.  He  took  a 
lease  of  the  Winter  Garden  Theater  in  conjunction 
with  his  brother-in-law  Clarke  and  William  Stuart,  and 
on  November  26, 1864,  the  famous  one  hundred  night 
run  of  "  Hamlet "  began.  It  was  an  artistic  and  com- 
plete production  in  every  respect,  and  established 
Booth's  position  beyond  cavil.  After  its  finish  in 
New  York  it  was  produced  in  Boston,  but  its  run 
there  was  interrupted  on  April  14  by  the  great  tragedy 
that  threw  the  country  into  consternation  and  that  for 


28  Cljcatrital  Caricature^ 

the  moment  blotted  out  entirely  Booth's  career.  It  was 
on  the  night  of  April  14  that  his  brother  John  Wilkes 
Booth  assassinated  President  Lincoln.  I  have  heard 
a  story,  no  doubt  apocryphal,  that  it  was  the  following 
morning  before  the  news  was  brought  to  Edwin,  and 
then  in  this  way :  His  colored  body-servant  entered  his 
room  and  asked,  "  Have  you  heard  the  news,  Massa 
Edwin  ?  "  "  What  news  ?  "  "  Mr.  Lincoln  has  been 
murdered."  "Murdered!"  "Yes.  Massa  Wilkes  shot 
him  last  night !  "  The  story  is  brutal  enough  to  be  true, 
but,  however  the  word  was  brought  to  him,  he  was  over- 
whelmed by  the  calamity  and  retired  from  the  stage. 

His  sensitive,  almost  morbid  nature  never  recov- 
ered from  that  shock  and  the  memory  of  it  was  al- 
ways near  the  surface.  I  remember  an  incident  that 
occurred  in  1891,  after  almost  thirty  years,  which  illus- 
trates this.  A  young  man  just  elected  to  membership  in 
the  Players  thought  to  show  his  appreciation  of  the 
honor  by  presenting  some  token  or  relic  to  the  beloved 
founder  of  the  club.  He  bought  a  play-bill  of  the  per- 
formance which  President  Lincoln  attended  on  the 
night  of  his  assassination,  and  presented  it  to  Mr. 
Booth  one  afternoon  at  the  Players.  The  dear  old 
gentleman  after  one  glance  at  it  turned  pale,  and  in 
great  agitation  left  the  room.  He  was  seen  later  in  his 
apartments  by  one  of  his  oldest  friends,  and  he  had 
somewhat  recovered  his  equanimity,  and  with  his 
gentleness  and  accustomed  consideration  for  others  he 
remarked :  "  I  think  I  should  take  it  as  a  compliment 
that  the  present  generation  seems  to  have  forgotten 
entirely  my  connection  with  that  bitter  tragedy." 


€ljcatrical  Caricature^  29 


There  is  a.  little  touch  of  irony  in  the  fact  that  the 
young  man's  play -bill  was  a  spurious  one. 

Mr.  William  Winter  says  that  only  necessity  brought 
Booth  back  to  the  stage,  and  one  can  well  believe  it. 
He  reappeared  in  New  York  at  the  Winter  Garden  in 
1866,  and  received  an  ovation,  and  on  his  subsequent 
tour  through  the  country  he  was  greeted  everywhere 
generously  and  cordially.  But  he  never  acted  in 
Washington  again.  The  Winter  Garden  was  destroyed 
in  1867,  but  the  following  year,  in  April,  saw  the  corner- 
stone laid  for  a  new  Booth's  Theater  at  the  corner  of 
Twenty-third  Street  and  Sixth  Avenue.  Nearly  a 
million  dollars  was  spent  in  its  erection,  and  Booth 
devoted  all  his  time,  energy,  and  experience  in  its  be- 
half. The  most  splendid  productions  of  the  standard 
drama  ever  seen  in  this  country  were  given  there,  and 
the  whole  enterprise  was  dedicated  to  art.  But  either 
the  time  was  not  ripe  for  the  enterprise,  or  else  the  busi- 
ness management  was  not  what  it  should  have  been, 
and  in  1874  the  theater  which  he  had  given  the  best 
in  him  to  found  passed  out  of  his  hands. 

Mr.  Winter  quotes  from  a  manuscript  note  of  Booth's 
referring  to  his  non-success :  "  I  had  no  desire  for  gain. 
My  only  hope  was  t<5  establish  the  pure,  legitimate 
drama  in  New  York,  and  by  my  example  to  incite 
others,  actors  and  managers,  to  continue  the  good 
work."  A  Utopian  dream,  as  far,  if  not  further,  from 
realization  in  our  day  than  it  was  in  his. 

In  1869  Booth  married  Miss  Mary  McVickar,  who, 
as  Mr.  Winter  says,  was  "remarkable  for  practical 
administrative  ability  in  the  affairs  of  business  and  so- 


30  CJjeatrital  Caricature^ 


cial  life,  rather  than  for  conspicuous  talent  in  acting. 
She  possessed  neither  the  figure,  the  countenance,  the 
voice,  nor  the  personal  charm  that  are  essential  for 
great  success  upon  the  stage,  and  her  acting,  although 
intelligent,  was  devoid  of  both  tenderness  and  power. 
She  acted  all  along  the  range,  from  Lady  Macbeth  to 
Ophelia."  Mrs.  Booth  lived  for  twelve  years  after  her 
marriage,  dying  in  1881. 

Booth  never  attempted  management  again;  the  rest 
of  his  career  he  entrusted  himself  to  the  management 
of  others.  He  went  to  England  in  1880  and  had  a 
moderately  successful  engagement  in  London,  winding 
up  with  a  few  joint  performances  with  Henry  Irving  at 
the  Lyceum,  Booth  playing  Othello,  Irving  lago, 
and  Miss  Terry  Desdemona.  For  this  engagement  the 
prices  of  the  theater  were  doubled,  and  the  Lyceum 
was  packed  night  after  night.  Too  much  cannot  be 
said  in  praise  of  Mr.  Irving's  generosity  and  thought- 
fulness  toward  his  brother  artist.  And  it  is  a  satisfac- 
tion to  know  that  Americans  have  never  forgotten  it. 
Again  in  1882  he  played  in  London  and  the  provinces, 
and  in  January,  1883,  he  appeared  at  the  Resedenz 
Theater  in  Berlin.  His  success  there  was  followed  by 
similar  successes  in  the  smaller  German  cities,  and  also 
in  Vienna.  He  returned  home  in  the  summer  of  that 
year  and  never  again  ventured  abroad,  though  he  often 
said  his  visit  to  Germany  was  one  of  the  most  delight- 
ful episodes  of  his  life. 

The  next  ten  years  were  given  up  to  starring  tours 
about  the  country,  with  occasional  intermissions  for 
rest.  In  1885  he  played  in  New  York  with  Ristori, 


3Tf)eatrical  Caricature^  31 


and  in  1886  he  and  Salvini  acted  together.  The  fol- 
lowing year  he  joined  his  fortunes  with  Mr.  Lawrence 
Barrett,  and  under  the  management  of  that  intelligent 
actor  the  combination  thrived  to  a  very  extraordinary 
degree,  and  Booth's  share  of  the  profits  was  a  nucleus 
for  the  considerable  fortune  that  he  left  at  the  time  of 
his  death. 

Mr.  Barrett  died  suddenly  in  1891,  and  on  April 
4  of  that  year  Booth  made  his  last  appearance  on  the 
stage  in  the  Brooklyn  Academy  of  Music.  The  play 
was  "  Hamlet,"  and  though  there  was  no  announce- 
ment that  it  was  to  be  his  last  performance,  the  theater 
was  packed  with  an  audience  that  showed  keenly  how 
impressive  the  occasion  was.  I  shall  never  forget 
how  we  hung  on  the  great  actor's  every  word,  and 
watched  his  every  movement.  His  Hamlet,  always 
an  exquisitely  beautiful  performance,  clear,  simple,  and 
wonderfully  dignified,  was  never  given  with  finer  feel- 
ing or  better  effect.  He  was  called  time  and  again 
after  the  final  fall  of  the  curtain,  and  was  forced  at 
last  to  make  a  little  speech.  In  the  streets  a  crowd 
that  completely  filled  the  street  had  massed  itself  to 
witness  his  departure  from  the  theater,  and  there  were 
loud  cheers  as  he  drove  away. 

His  health  never  permitted  him  to  act  again,  and 
the  two  years  that  remained  to  him  were  spent  mostly 
at  his  apartments  in  the  Players,  that  monument  to 
his  generosity  and  thoughtfulness  for  which  men  of  all 
arts  and  professions  have  to  be  thankful.  There,  sur- 
rounded by  many  old  friends,  he  passed  his  last  days, 
happy  in  the  prosperity  of  the  club  which  he  had 


32  Cfjeatrical  Caricatured 


founded,  and  to  the  end  taking  an  active  interest  in 
its  affairs. 

He  died  in  his  apartments  there,  June  8,  1893,  and 
was  buried  in  the  beautiful  Mount  Auburn  Cemetery 
at  Cambridge,  Mass.  More  versatile  actors  may  have 
lived,  but  never  a  greater. 


jfforencc. 


WILLIAM  J.  FLORENCE. 


WILLIAM   J.    FLORENCE. 


T7LORENCE  was  one  of  the  last  of  the  old-school 
J/  comedians,  and  he  was  one  of  the  best.  I  should 
rank  him  not  one  whit  below  Jefferson,  and  in  so  do- 
ing would  honor  him  no  less  than  Jefferson,  whose 
professional  companion  he  was  during  the  last  seasons 
of  his  professional  career.  The  present  generation  of 
theater-goers  should  be  thankful  for  the  memory  of 
his  Sir  Lucius  G1  Trigger  •  (one  of  the  most  charming 
and  delightful  performances  I  ever  saw,  full  of  ele- 
gance, dash,  and  humor) ;  and  if  some  years  before 
they  were  in  the  theater  when  they  should  have  been 
at  home  abed,  they  will  have  youthful  remembrance 
of  his  Captain  Cuttle,  Bardwell  Slote,  and  Obenreizer. 
I  have  such  a  remembrance,  and  treasure  it,  though  it 
is  a  rather  vague  one  —  none  the  less  so  as  I  looked 
upon  stage  happenings  in  those  days  from  a  great 
height. 

William  Jermyn  Florence  was  born  at  Albany,  New 
York,  in  1831,  and,  like  Brougham,  and  so  many 
others,  found  the  straight  path  to  his  profession 
through  the  door  which  the  amateur  stage  flung  open 
to  him.  He  made  his  first  professional  appearance  in 
35 


s6  €tjeatrical  Caricatured 

New  York  in  1850  at  Niblo's  Garden,  then  under  the 
management  of  Brougham  and  Chippendale,  in  a 
small  part,  and,  after  several  seasons  of  those  actors' 
bugbears,  "  small  parts,"  he  was  intrusted  with  better 
things.  His  first  real "  hit  "  was  made  at  the  Lyceum, 
still  under  Brougham's  management,  in  the  "  Row  at 
the  Lyceum." 

Mr.  Laurence  Hutton,  in  his  interesting  and  valua- 
ble "  Plays  and  Players,"  gives  the  following  account 
of  that  performance : 

"  The  curtain  rose  to  a  crowded  house  on  a  scene  at 
rehearsal,  after  the  manner  of  Sheridan's '  Critic.'  The 
actors  and  actresses,  in  their  ordinary  street  dresses, 
looking  in  every  respect  like  the  not  more  than  ordi- 
nary men  and  women  they  really  were  ...  It  was 
the  green-room  proper  of  a  theater,  with  all  the  green- 
room accessories  and  surroundings,  the  scenes  and  in- 
cidents, concords  and  discords  of  a  green-room  gath- 
ering. .  .  .  Mr.  Dunn  as  Mr.  Dunn,  Tom  the  Call 
Boy  as  Tom,  and  Mrs.  Vernon  as  Mrs.  Vernon  were 
very  natural  of  course,  and  very  funny  .  .  .  The 
audience  was  thoroughly  interested  and  amused  at 
the  realism  of  the  performance,  when,  '  Enter  Mrs. 
B.'  the  scene  changes,  and  the  '  Row  at  the  Lyceum  ' 
begins.  While  she  greets  her  friends,  looks  over  her 
part,  objects  to  her  business,  and  lays  claim  to  some- 
thing more  in  her  line,  a  stout,  middle-aged  gentleman 
seated  in  the  middle  of  the  pit,  clothed  in  Quakerish 
garb,  who  had  hitherto  quietly  listened  to  and  laughed 
with  the  rest,  rises  suddenly  in  his  place  with  umbrella 
firmly  clasped  in  both  hands  and  held  up  on  a  line 


Cgeatrical  Caricature^  37 

with  his  nose,  and  to  the  astonishment  of  the  house, 
calmly  and  sedately  addresses  the  stage  and  the  house 
in  words  to  this  effect :  *  That  woman  looks  for  all  the 
world  like  Clementina  !  Her  voice  is  very  like  —  the 
form  the  same.'  And  then  with  emphasis:  '  It  is  my 
wife  — '  at  the  same  time  leaving  his  seat  in  great  ex- 
citement, he  rushes  toward  the  foot-lights,  and  cries 
wildly  and  loudly, '  Come  off  that  stage,  thou  miser- 
able woman ! ' 

"  The  utmost  confusion  reigned  in  the  theater.  The 
audience,  at  first  amused  by  the  interruption,  seeing 
that  the  Quaker  gentleman  was  in  earnest,  soon  took 
sides  for  or  against  him,  and  saluted  him  with  all 
sorts  of  encouraging  and  discouraging  cries,  as  he 
fought  his  way  toward  the  orchestra.  .  .  . 

"  Up  in  the  third  tier,  in  a  corner  near  the  stage,  in 
prominent  position,  visible  to  all,  was  one  particularly 
'  gallus '  boy  —  a  fireman,  red-shirted,  soap-locked, 
with  tilted  tile,  a  pure  specimen  of  the  now  obsolete 
b'hoy — Mose  himself.  He  added  greatly  to  the  ex- 
citement of  the  scene,  by  the  loud  and  personal  in- 
terest he  seemed  to  take  in  the  proceedings,  and 
promised  to  give  the  indignant  husband  a  sound 
lamming  if  he  ventured  to  lay  a  hand  on  that  young 
'oman ;  volunteering  if  the  indignant  husband  would 
wait  for  him  to  go  down  and  do  it  then  and  there; 
proceeding  then  and  there  to  go  down  and  do  it ! 

"  At  this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  the  dramatic  per- 
formances of  '  Green  Room  Secrets '  were  entirely 
stopped.  The  artists  were  utterly  unable  to  proceed 
on  account  of  the  uproar  in  front.  .  .  . 


3*  €fjeatrical  Caricature^ 

"  All  this  time  the  irate  husband  was  struggling  to 
reach  his  wife.  He  finally  climbed  over  the  orchestra, 
the  red-shirted  defender  of  the  young  woman  close 
behind  him,  when  both  were  collared  by  a  policeman 
or  two,  dragged  upon  the  stage,  made  to  face  the 
house,  the  regulation  stage  semicircle  was  formed 
behind  the  footlights,  and  the  epilogue  was  spoken, 
the  audience  beginning  to  recognize  in  the  efficient 
policemen  the  supes  of  the  establishment ;  in  the  fire- 
laddie  of  the  soap-lock  and  tilted  tile,  Mr.  W.  J. 
Florence;  in  the  indignant  husband,  Mr.  Brougham 
himself;  in  the  recovered  wife,  Mrs.  Brougham;  and 
to  realize  that  the  '  Row  at  the  Lyceum '  was  a  pre- 
meditated and  magnificent  sell." 

After  this,  the  conquest  of  the  town  was  no  task,  and 
Florence  soon  became  a  favorite.  In  1853  he  married 
Miss  Malvina  Pray,  and  they  shared  success  together 
for  many  years  after.  They  were  very  successful  in  a 
London  engagement  at  Drury  Lane,  in  1856,  and 
later  in  a  joint  starring  tour  over  the  United  States. 
In  1863  Florence  made  his  first  appearance  as  Bob 
Brierly  in  the  famous  "  Ticket-of-Leave  Man,"  which 
was  played  for  thousands  of  nights  throughout  the 
country.  It  is  in  this  character  that  Gladding  has 
chosen  to  caricature  him.  As  George  D'Alroy  in 
that  rather  dreary  old  play  "  Caste,"  he  made  another 
hit  and  started  the  play  on  a  long  career.  Mrs.  Flor- 
ence played  Polly  Eccles,  and  I  can  imagine  her  as 
nothing  less  than  delightful  as  that  breezy  and  uncon- 
ventional young  lady.  "  Caste "  was  followed  by 
"  No  Thoroughfare  "  and  a  revival  of  "  Dombey  and 


^Theatrical  Caricatures.  39 

Son  "  in  which  he  took  Burton's  old  part  of  Captain 
Cuttle,  playing  it  admirably  too.  He  not  only  took 
Burton's  part  but  wore  Burton's  clothes,  iron  hook  and 
all ;  and  there  is  a  very  good  story  in  connection  with 
this  that  has  n't  been  often  told  before.  Florence,  as 
every  one  knows,  was  a  great  practical  joker,  and 
among  his  many  butts  was  one  Gus  Fenno,  an  actor 
in  the  company,  who  laid  himself  particularly  open  to 
practical  jesting  as  he  was  a  spiritualist.  At  one  of  the 
early  rehearsals  of  "  Dombey  and  Son,"  when  Florence 
appeared  at  the  prompter's  table,  he  found  Fenno  there 
and  tremendous  rappings  sounded.  "What  is  the 
matter  now  ? "  questioned  Florence,  laughingly. 
"  Burton  is  here,"  answered  Fenno.  "  What  does  he 
say  ?  "  asked  Florence.  "  He  says  '  Tell  that  fellow 
to  take  my  clothes  off,' "  replied  Fenno  amid  a  roar 
of  laughter. 

Luckily  Florence  refused.  And  with  this  group  of 
characters,  Obenreizer  (in  "  No  Thoroughfare  ")  D'Al- 
roy,  Brierly,  and  Captain  Cuttle,  he  busied  himself 
mostly  during  the  next  few  years. 

In  1875,  he  created  a  new  character,  however,  and 
one  which  the  theater-goer  of  to-day  knows  better  than 
any  other.  As  Mr.  Hutton  says :  "  Bardwell  Slote  is 
destined  to  walk  down  to  posterity  arm  in  arm  with 
Rip  Van  Winkle,  Joe  Bunker,  Solon  Shingle,  Davy 
Crockett  and  Colonel  Sellers,  the  typical  stage  Ameri- 
can of  the  nineteenth  century  and  Mr.  Florence's 
most  enduring  character."  He  was  certainly  inimi- 
tably droll  and  amusing  as  the  M.  C.  for  the  Cobosh 
District,  as  was  Mrs.  Florence  in  the  character  of  Mrs. 


4o  €J)catricaI  Caricature^ 

General  Gilflory.  "The  Mighty  Dollar"  had  no 
particular  merit  as  a  comedy,  but  it  served  the  Flor- 
ences as  a  peg  on  which  to  hang  two  of  their  most 
humorous  characters. 

It  was  in  1889  that  he  joined  Jefferson,  and  in  con- 
junction with  Mrs.  John  Drew  gave  "The  Rivals" 
and  later  "The  Heir-at-Law."  He  died  in  1891, 
leaving  a  host  of  friends  to  mourn  a  genial,  honest 
gentleman,  and  the  stage  a  loser  by  the  loss  of  his 
humorous  art. 


JOHN  E.  OWENS. 


JOHN   E.    OWENS. 


IN  that  wonderful  record  of  a  wonderful  life,  "The 
Autobiography  of  Joseph  Jefferson,"  the  author  has 
this  to  say  of  a  visit  to  the  St.  Charles  Theater,  in 
New  Orleans,  during  the  war,  and  when  he  was  but  a 
rising  young  comedian : 

"  At  last  he  came,  and  certainly  he  conquered.  As 
he  entered  briskly  upon  the  stage,  humming  a 
sprightly  song,  I  thought  him  the  handsomest  low 
comedian  I  had  ever  seen.  He  had  a  neat  dapper 
little  figure  and  a  face  full  of  lively  expression.  His 
audience  was  with  him  from  first  to  last,  his  effective 
style  and  great  flow  of  animal  spirits  capturing  them 
and  myself  too,  though  I  must  confess  that  I  had  a 
hard  struggle  even  inwardly  to  acknowledge  it. 

"As  I  look  back  and  call  to  mind  the  slight  touch  of 
envy  that  I  felt  that  night,  I  am  afraid  that  I  had 
hoped  to  see  something  not  quite  so  good,  and  was 
a  little  annoyed  to  find  him  such  a  capital  actor ;  in 
short,  I  experienced  those  unpleasant  twinges  of  jeal- 
ousy that  will  creep  over  us  during  the  moments  when 
we  are  not  at  our  best  —  though  these  feelings  may 
occasionally  produce  a  good  result.  In  me,  I  know, 
43 


44  Cfjeatrical  Caricature^ 


it  stirred  up  the  first  great  ambition  that  I  remember 
ever  to  have  felt,  and  from  that  night  of  pleasure  and 
excitement  I  resolved  to  equal  Owens  some  day,  if  I 
could."  Flattering  testimony,  indeed,  from  one  great 
comedian  to  the  abilities  of  another. 

John  Edward  Owens  was  born  in  Liverpool  in 
1824,  and  was  brought  when  but  a  child  by  his  par- 
ents to  this  country,  where  they  settled  in  Philadel- 
phia ;  and  it  was  in  Philadelphia  that  when  but  a  lad 
he  appeared  at  the  National  Theater,  then  under 
Burton's  management,  as  a  super.  It  was  not  long, 
however,  before  he  became  a  general  utility  man,  and 
eventually  a  valuable  member  of  the  stock  company, 
playing  engagements  both  in  Philadelphia  and  Balti- 
more. It  was  in  the  season  of  1846-47  that  Jefferson 
saw  him  at  the  St.  Charles  in  New  Orleans  as  first 
low  comedian  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Keene 
and  Mrs.  James  Wallack  in  the  company.  He  was 
soon  back  in  Baltimore  and  Philadelphia,  and  in 
"A  Glance  at  Philadelphia,"  one  of  those  plays  of 
purely  local  interest,  he  made  an  enormous  hit  as 
Jakey,  the  fire-laddie  —  (everybody  in  those  days 
seems  to  have  made  hits  as  fire-laddies)  —  and  filled 
Burton's  treasury  to  such  an  extent  that  he  was  able 
to  come  over  to  New  York  and  lease  the  Chambers 
Street  Theater,  which  afterward  brought  him  fame 
and  fortune  too. 

The  season  of  1851  found  him  making  his  first  bow 
to  a  New  York  audience.  He  played  Uriah  Heep  in 
an  adaptation  of  "  David  Copperfield  "  at  Brougham's 
Lyceum,  a  departure  from  the  usual  character  of  his 


Cfjeatricai  Caricatured  45 

parts,  but  undertaken  with  no  less  success.  He  fin- 
ished the  season  in  New  York  and  then  took  the  play 
about  the  country. 

It  was  during  a  Philadelphia  engagement,  however, 
in  1856-57,  that  the  famous  "  Solon  Shingle  "  first  ap- 
peared before  the  public.  The  play  was  called  "  The 
People's  Lawyer  "  in  those  days,  and  was  originally  in 
two  acts.  Owens  was  so  pleased  with  the  part  that 
he  carefully  elaborated  it,  rearranged  it,  and  put  it  on 
shelf  for  future  use.  Meanwhile  he  was  to  make 
a  tremendous  hit  in  a  part  that  is  entirely  associated, 
by  us  of  to-day,  with  the  genius  of  Jefferson.  He 
played  Caleb  Plummer  in  Boucicault's  adaptation  of 
"  The  Cricket  on  the  Hearth  "  in  New  Orleans,  where 
he  was  then  managing  the  Varieties  Theater,  in  1859. 
It  had  the  unprecedented  run  —  for  those  days  —  of 
two  months,  and  was  always  afterwards  one  of  his 
most  popular  characters.  Six  years  later,  in  August, 
1865,  Owens  commenced  an  engagement  at  the  Broad- 
way Theater,  under  the  management  of  George  Wood. 
"  Solon  Shingle  "  was  the  after-piece,  and  before  a  week 
had  passed  his  delineation  of  the  old  farmer  became  the 
sensation  of  the  town.  The  house  was  packed  nightly, 
and  the  catch  phrases  of  the  piece  became  current  in 
the  town,  and  the  mere  mention  of  the  "bar'l  of  apple 
sass  "  brought  a  twinkle  to  every  eye.  On  its  hun- 
dredth performance,  one  of  the  leading  papers  drew 
attention  to  its  remarkable  run,  as  follows :  "  In  one 
hundred  days  France  passed  through  the  throes  of  two 
revolutions  —  lost  a  king,  gained  an  emperor,  and  again 
bowed  to  a  king.  In  one  hundred  days  Napoleon 


46  £i)catriral  Caricatures. 


left  Elba,  marched  to  the  throne  of  France,  fought 
Waterloo,  and  was  conquered.  In  one  hundred  nights 
John  Owens  fought  a  fight  for  popularity  single-handed 
against  the  hordes  of  New  York  theater-goers  and 
conquered  them.  In  one  hundred  nights  the  Broad- 
way Theater  passed  from  the  position  of  a  concert  hall 
to  the  height  of  fashion.  We  take  pleasure  in  chron- 
icling such  victories.  '  Solon  Shingle '  will  run  addi- 
tional hundreds  of  nights,  if  this  great  artist  chooses." 
Which  shows  that  the  advertising  agent  of  those  days 
was  a  much  milder  creature  than  his  modern  prototype. 
At  the  end  of  six  months  —  although  its  popularity  had 
in  no  way  abated — Owens  got  tired  of  playing  the 
part  and  substituted  in  its  stead  Caleb  Plummer,  who 
met  with  just  as  cordial  a  welcome.  After  the  end 
of  the  New  York  season  Owens  accepted  an  offer 
from  Benjamin  Webster,  then  managing  the  Adelphi 
in  London,  for  an  engagement  of  six  weeks,  which 
was  afterward  extended,  and  "  Solon  Shingle "  pro- 
ceeded to  amuse  the  sophisticated  society  of  the 
English  metropolis. 

To  further  chronicle  Owens's  career  would  be  but 
to  repeat.  His  position  as  one  of  our  greatest  come- 
dians was  assured,  and  the  next  twenty  years  of  his 
life  were  given  up  to  an  appreciative  public.  In  1882 
he  played  the  part  of  Elbert  Rogers  in  "  Esmeralda  " 
during  its  lengthy  run  at  the  Madison  Square  Theater, 
and  afterward  on  tour.  His  last  appearance  in  New 
York  was  at  the  Harlem  Theater  in  "  Solon  Shingle." 
He  was  taken  ill  during  that  engagement,  and  practi- 
cally retired  from  the  stage.  He  died  in  1886. 


F.    S.    CHANFRAU. 


FRANCIS  S.   CHANFRAU. 


IT  was  at  Mitchell's  Olympic,  Number  444  Broad- 
way, that  F.  S.  Chanfrau,  then  a  youngster  of 
twenty-four,  first  forced  himself  prominently  before 
the  New  York  theater-goer,  and  he  held  his  position 
for  over  thirty  years.  He  was  a  New  York  boy  to 
begin  with,  born  here  in  1824,  and  raised.  He  re- 
ceived an  ordinary  common-school  education,  and 
learned  the  ship-carpenter's  trade.  "  Becoming  ad- 
dicted," as  Mr.  Ireland  quaintly  puts  it,  "  to  private 
theatricals,"  he  eventually  found  his  way  as  a  super- 
numerary to  the  Bowery  Theater,  and  afterward 
made  quite  a  little  reputation  for  himself  as  a  mimic. 
His  imitations  of  Forrest,  Booth,  and  others  were  ex- 
cellent, and  led  on  to  more  important  things.  He 
went  the  round  of  the  New  York  theaters,  gaining 
a  valuable  and  diversified  experience,  which  enabled 
him  when  his  opportunity  came  to  seize  it.  It  came 
on  the  night  of  February  15,  1848.  Baker,  the 
prompter  of  the  theater,  had  hurriedly  thrown  to- 
gether for  his  benefit  night  a  piece  which  he  called 
"  New  York  in  1848,"  afterward  called  "A  Glance  at 
New  York."  It  was  practically  the  same  thing  that 
7  49 


50  Ctjeatrical  Caricatuteg* 

Owens  did  in  Philadelphia,  the  same  year,  both  pieces 
being  localized  to  suit  their  native  towns.  Owens's 
Jakey  was  a  counterpart  of  Chanfrau's  M0se,  both  tough 
fire  b'hoys.  Mr.  Lawrence  Hutton  in  his  "  Curiosities 
of  the  American  Stage  "  says :  "  It  [the  play]  had  no 
literary  merit  and  no  pretensions  thereto ;  and  it  would 
never  have  attracted  public  attention  but  for  the  won- 
derful '  b'hoy '  of  the  period  played  by  F.  S.  Chan- 
frau  —  one  of  those  accidental  but  complete  successes 
upon  the  stage  which  are  never  anticipated,  and  which 
cannot  always  be  explained.  He  wore  the  'soap 
locks  '  of  the  period,  the  plug  hat  with  a  narrow  black 
band,  the  red  shirt,  the  trousers  turned  up  —  without 
which  the  genus  was  never  seen ;  and  he  had  a  pecu- 
liarly sardonic  curve  of  the  lip,  expressive  of  more  im- 
pudence, self-satisfaction,  suppressed  profanity,  and 
'  general  cussedness '  than  Delsarte  ever  dared  to  put 
in  any  single  facial  gesture."  A  vivid  picture,  indeed, 
and  one  which  the  reader  will  recognize  in  the  minia- 
ture figure  in  the  left-hand  corner  of  the  plate.  Mose 
took  New  York  by  storm,  and  the  country,  too,  for 
that  matter,  and  assured  Chanfrau's  future.  To  show 
the  wonderful  vitality  of  the  piece,  and  incidentally  of 
Chanfrau  himself,  I  quote  from  a  letter  which  he  wrote 
in  1874  to  Mr.  Joseph  N.  Ireland.  "  The  original  run 
of '  Mose '  in  all  its  modifications  ('  A  Glance  at  New 
York '  was  followed  by  Mose  all  over  the  world : 
'  Mose  in  California,'  '  Mose  in  a  Muss,'  '  Mose  in 
China,'  and  so  on)  covered  three  years  and  six  months, 
a  portion  of  which  time  the  first  version  was  performed 
for  several  weeks  at  two  theaters,  the  Olympic  and 


€ljcatricai  Caricature^  s1 

the  National,  in  New  York  on  the  same  night,  and 
for  one  week  within  that  period  at  three  theaters  on 
the  same  evening  —  the  two  above  mentioned,  and  at 
the  Newark  (N.  J.)  Theater.  Altogether,  I  have 
given  in  the  twenty-six  years  which  have  elapsed  since 
the  first  presentation  of  Mose  something  in  excess  of 
twenty-two  hundred  representations  of  the  character. 
" Respecting  '  Sam'  I  can  speak  with  great  confidence. 
Of  that  play  I  have  thus  far  given  seven  hundred  and 
eighty-three  performances.  '  Kit,'  a  more  recent  but 
equally  prosperous  specialty,  I  have  already  performed 
five  hundred  and  sixty  times." 

Of  Chanfrau's  Mose  Mr.  Ireland  says :  "  His  por- 
traiture was  perfect  in  every  particular — dress,  manner, 
gait,  tone,  action  —  and  the  character  is  as  inseparably 
identified  with  him  as  Paul  Pry  with  Hilson.  Delph 
with  Burns,  Jemmy  Twitcher  with  John  Sexton; 
Crummies  with  Mitchell ;  Captain  Cuttle  with  Burton,  or 
Our  American  Cousin  with  young  Jefferson  (young  Jef- 
ferson !).  Mr.  Chanfrau's  immense  success  in  this  char- 
acter has  been  somewhat  detrimental  to  his  standing 
in  his  native  city  in  a  more  elevated  range  of  the 
drama;  some  squeamish  connoisseurs  insisting  that  an 
artist  cannot  excel  in  parts  dissimilar.  The  conclu- 
sion, however,  is  unwarrantable  and  unjust,  for  his 
versatility,  although  unbounded  in  aim,  is  almost  un- 
equaled  in  merit,  and  his  name  is  ever  a  reliable  source 
of  attraction  and  profit  in  almost  every  other  city  of 
the  Union  in  a  much  higher  grade  of  character.  Mr. 
Chanfrau  is  decidedly  handsome,  and,  divested  of  the 
dress  and  attributes  of  Mose,  his  appearance  and  man- 


$2  €J)catrical  Caricature^ 


ners  are  those  of  a  well-bred  gentleman,  and  we  are 
assured  that  his  private  life  and  character  are  such  as 
to  entitle  him  to  the  highest  respect." 

A  naive  tribute  to  the  character  and  ability  of 
the  man,  "  squeamish  connoisseurs  "  notwithstanding. 
Jefferson  was  not  one  of  these,  for  he  writes  of  him : 

"  When  I  first  saw  him  he  was  extremely  handsome. 
He  was  modest,  too,  and  manly.  These  qualities  are 
so  rarely  allied  to  beauty,  that  Chanfrau  comes  back 
to  my  remembrance  as  quite  a  novelty.  He  had  suc- 
cess enough  to  have  turned  his  head,  but  he  bore  it 
bravely,  so  that  he  must  have  been  as  well  poised  in 
his  mind  as  he  was  in  his  person." 

Chanfrau  married  in  1858  Miss  Henrietta  Baker  of 
Cincinnati,  who  as  Henrietta  Chanfrau,  holds  an  im- 
portant place  in  the  annals  of  the  New  York  stage. 

De  Walden's  comedy  of  "  Sam,"  in  which  he  played 
the  title-rdle,  was  Chanfrau's  next  important  eccen- 
tric essay,  and  its  success  was  enormous.  In  the  plate 
Sam  is  the  little  gentleman  on  the  right  and  he  is  no 
other  than  Lord  Dundreary's  idiot  brother.  Both 
Mose  and  Sam  were  long  before  my  theatrical  or  any 
other  days,  but  I  have  thrilling  recollections  of  his 
"  Kit,  the  Arkansas  Traveller,"  and  a  wonderful  Kit 
he  was,  full  of  dash,  fire,  and  intrepidity ;  as  ready  with 
his  "  gun "  as  with  his  bowie  knife,  and  wreaking  a 
terrible  vengeance  on  the  villain.  It  was  the  last  part 
he  ever  played,  and  he  was  in  the  harness  till  the  very 
last.  He  died  suddenly  in  Jersey  City,  leaving  his 
wife  and  a  son,  Frank,  who  is  playing  Kit  to  this  day, 
I  believe,  about  the  country. 


Cftartca  €.  W^ttc  anti  SDnn 


CHARLES  WHITE. 


CHARLES  T.  WHITE  AND 
DAN  BRYANT. 


THE  story  of  Charley  White  and  Dan  Bryant  is 
practically  the  story  of  negro  minstrelsy  in  New 
York.  White  was  born  in  1821,  and  from  the  time 
he  was  a  mere  lad  took  part  in  public  performances. 
The  first  minstrel  company  in  New  York  was  organ- 
ized in  1843,  and  the  next  year  White  started  a  com- 
pany of  his  own  which  he  called  "  The  Kitchen  Min- 
strels." They  opened  on  the  second  floor  of  the 
building  at  Broadway  and  Chambers  Street.  A  bio- 
graphical scrap  of  White  says :  "  The  first  floor  was 
occupied  by  Tiffany  and  Ellis,  jewellers;  the  third  by 
the  renowned  Ottignon  as  a  gymnasium.  Here,  where 
the  venerable  Palmo  had  introduced  to  delighted 
audiences  the  Italian  opera,  and  regaled  them  with 
fragrant  Mocha  coffee  handed  around  by  obsequious 
waiters,  he  first  came  prominently  before  the  public." 
He  afterward,  in  1846,  opened  The  Melodeon,  at  53 
Bowery,  and  later,  White's  Athenaeum,  at  585  Broad- 
way. For  many  years  he  was  associated  as  manager 
or  performer  with  almost  every  minstrel  entertainment 
in  New  York  :  with  the  "  Virginia  Serenaders,"  "  The 
61 


62  €i)eattital  Caricatures* 

Ethiopian  Operatic  Brotherhood,"  "The  Sable  Sisters 
of  Ethiopian  Minstrels,"  "  The  New  York  Minstrels," 
and  so  on.  He  was  instrumental  in  introducing  to 
the  stage  Daniel  Webster  O'Brien,  better  known  as 
Dan  Bryant,  probably  the  most  famous  minstrel  of 
them  all.  He  was  born  in  Troy  in  1833,  and  when 
twelve  years  old  made  his  first  appearance  in  New 
York  at  the  Vauxhall  Garden,  as  a  dancer.  From  then 
on  he  followed  the  profession  of  minstrel  and  come- 
dian, with  increasing  success  and  popularity.  In  1857, 
in  partnership  with  his  brothers  Neil  and  Jerry,  he 
organized  a  minstrel  company  called  the  "  Cork- 
onians,"  and  opened  at  Mechanic's  Hall,  472  Broad- 
way. In  July,  1863,  he  essayed  the  Irish  character 
of  Handy  Andy  at  the  Wintergarden  Theater,  and  so 
successfully  that  he  gave  up  burnt  cork  for  a  while, 
and  traveled  as  a  "  white  "  star  about  this  country 
and  England.  He  returned  to  minstrelsy,  though,  in 
1868,  and  played  the  darky  till  his  death  in  1875. 

Mr.  William  Winter,  in  his  "  Brief  Chronicles,"  says 
of  him  that  he  "  was  one  of  the  gentlest  and  merriest 
of  men,  and  he  passed  his  life  making  innocent  laugh- 
ter for  everybody  and  in  doing  good.  Privately  and 
publicly  he  was  a  generous,  unselfish,  genial  per- 
son. .  .  . 

"  He  had  a  droll  humour  and  fine  animal  spirits, 
and  his  Irishmen  were  natural  and  interesting.  " 


• 


DAN  BRYANT. 


WILLIAM  WHEATLEY. 


WILLIAM  WHEATLEY. 


ON  March  9,  1804,  a  small  building  in  Bedlow 
Street,  New  York,  was  opened  as  the  Grove 
Theater,  with  a  company  of  what  the  chronicler  calls 
"inferior  performers."  "Of  these,"  he  adds,  "-Mr. 
Frederick  Wheatley  must  be  noticed  as  the  husband 
and  father  of  a  most  talented  wife  and  children.  He 
was  afterward  attached  for  many  years  to  the  Park 
Theater."  This  Frederick  Wheatley  was  an  Irish- 
man —  a  Trinity  College  Irishman  —  as  I  have  heard 
him  described,  who  strayed  to  this  country  as  a  player 
and  singer.  In  1805  he  married  a  Miss  Ross,  the 
daughter  of  an  officer  in  the  British  army,  who  had 
joined  the  Park  Theater  company,  and  who  retired 
after  her  marriage  to  private  life,  only  to  enter  the 
lists  again  later.  The  chronicler  says  of  her  that 
"  severe  study,  long  practice,  and  the  strictest  adher- 
ence to  nature,  finally  gave  her  the  position  she  aimed 
at,  and  for  more  than  twenty  years,  in  the  line  of 
comic,  middle-aged  old  women,  rich  or  poor,  refined 
or  vulgar  —  indeed,  of  every  grade,  she  was  entirely 
unrivaled  on  the  American  stage.  Her  reputation  re- 
sulted from  the  combination  of  perfect  good  sense 
9  65 


66  €l)eatrical  Caricature^ 

with  accurate  discrimination  of  character,  fine  artistic 
taste,  an  agreeable  face  and  person,  and  the  most 
thorough  executive  ability.  Becoming  independent 
in  her  resources,  with  her  daughters  handsomely 
settled  in  marriage,  and  her  son  William  enjoying  a 
high  professional  reputation,  Mrs.  Wheatley  in  1843 
finally  bade  farewell  to  the  stage,  and  had  the  nerve  to 
resist  the  tempting  offer  of  $1000  for  reappearance,  for 
a  single  night,  in  the  character  of  Mrs.  Malaprop.  She 
had  passed  her  eighty-fourth  birthday  when  she  died." 

This  artistic  and  exemplary  lady  was  the  mother, 
and  Mr.  Frederick  Wheatley  was  the  father,  of  the 
subject  of  this  sketch,  who,  though  entirely  forgotten 
to-day,  save  by  the  very  old  playgoer  or  actor,  was  in 
his  time  a  young  actor  of  decided  ability,  and  later  a 
metropolitan  manager  of  note  and  success. 

Mr.  Joseph  N.  Ireland,  whose  invaluable  services 
to  the  history  of  our  local  stage  I  can  only  too  poorly 
acknowledge,  gives  the  record  of  his  stage  career  as 
follows :  "  Mr.  Macready  appeared  as  William  Tell 
(October  12,  1826),  with  Master  William  Wheatley  as 
Albert,  who  attracted  much  notice  by  the  good  judg- 
ment he  evinced  in  its  performance.  He  soon  after- 
ward appeared  as  Tom  Thumb,  and  for  two  or  three 
years  was  the  principal  representative  of  the  Park 
juveniles.  In  1833  he  was  at  the  Bowery  in  the  low- 
est part  of  a  walking  gentleman.  In  the  summer  of 
1834  he  reappeared  at  the  Park  in  a  more  elevated 
range  of  the  same  line,  and  gradually  worked  his  way 
into  public  favor  by  his  sensible  personations  of 
whatever  was  intrusted  to  his  care. 


€{)catrical  Caricature^  67 

"  In  the  long  catalogue  of  characters  then  assigned  to 
him  —  such  as  Laertes  ;  Henry  in  *  Speed  the  Plough  ' ; 
Michael  in  '  Victorine ' ;  Nicholas  Nickleby,  Charles 
Courtly,  and  Henry  Moreland  in  *  The  Heir-at-Law  " 
(which  Charles  Kemble  did  not  disdain  to  play  in 
London), —  we  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  his  equal ; 
while  as  Sir  Thomas  Clifford,  Alfred  Evelyn  and 
Claude  Melnotte,  he  played  with  a  truthful  earnest- 
ness that  quite  eclipsed  the  efforts  of  more  pretending 
performers.  His  temperament  was  scarcely  mercurial 
enough  to  give  due  effect  to  the  Vapids,  the  Gossamers, 
and  Dazzles  of  light  comedy,  nor,  although  he  per- 
fectly satisfied  the  eye  as  Hamlet  and  Romeo,  would 
his  rendition  of  them  rank  with  their  first  representa- 
tives. Mr.  Wheatley  left  the  Park  Theater  in  1843, 
but  fulfilled  a  star  engagement  there  in  1847,  m  con~ 
junction  with  his  sister,  Mrs.  James  Mason.  He  was 
for  several  years  a  resident  of  Philadelphia,  where  he 
played  exclusively  the  highest  grades  of  character,  and 
as  actor  and  manager  enjoyed  great  popularity.  (Dur- 
ing his  sojourn  in  Philadelphia,  he  managed  the  Arch 
Street  Theater  in  partnership  with  the  elder  John 
Drew.) 

"  In  January,  1862,  he  reappeared  at  Niblo's  Garden 
in  conjunction  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  Wallack,  Jr.,  Mrs. 
Barrow,  and  Mr.  E.  L.  Davenport,  and  soon  rein- 
stated himself  in  the  good  opinion  of  his  audience,  by 
many  of  whom  he  was  almost  forgotten.  In  the  sum- 
mer of  that  year  he  became  sole  lessee  and  manager 
of  that  establishment,  and  still  remains  there,  popular 
and  prosperous,  having  given  it  a  character  for  the 


68  €f)eatrical  Caricature^ 


production  of  romantic  and  spectacular  dramas  not 
previously  enjoyed  by  any  theater  in  the  city. 

"  The  splendid  l  getting  up '  and  success  of  the 
'  Duke's  Motto/  in  which  his  performance  of  Henri  de 
Lagardere  received  the  most  rapturous  applause ;  of 
the  l  Corsican  Brothers,'  wherein  he  was  equally  happy 
as  Louis  and  Fabien ;  of  '  Satanella '  and  the  '  En- 
chantress '  with  Mr.  Richings  and  daughter ;  l  Bel 
Demonio'  with  Mademoiselle  Vestvali;  the  '  Connie 
Soogah '  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams,  and  '  Arra  na 
Pogue,'  are  the  best  proofs  of  his  judgment,  taste,  and 
liberality." 

It  was  during  this  period  of  management  that  the 
famous  "  Black  Crook  "  was  produced,  and  it  is  at  this 
period  that  the  caricaturist  has  depicted  him,  sur- 
rounded by  the  goblins,  fairies,  and  supernatural  crea- 
tures of  that  supernatural  production.  He  was  one 
of  several  who  made  their  "  everlasting  fortunes  "  out 
of  that  successful  play,  and  he  was  lost  to  public  view 
in  a  mist  of  profits. 


3Untonio 


TONY   PASTOR. 


ANTONIO    PASTOR. 


AT  last  a  contemporary  stares  us  in  the  face,  and 
.XjL  may  he  continue  to  do  so  for  years  to  come! 
Tony  Pastor  was  born  in  Greenwich  Street,  New 
York,  in  1840,  and  fortunately,  is  able  to  tell  his  own 
story. 

That  there  is  undoubtedly  "  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends  " 
my  life  story  demonstrates.  From  my  earliest  childhood  I  was 
possessed  with  a  desire  to  "  strut  upon  the  mimic  stage,"  a  de- 
sire that  at  the  age  of  eight  found  me  at  the  head  of  a  dozen 
boys  managing  a  penny  circus  in  the  back  yard  of  my  parents' 
residence,  and  before  my  tenth  year  appearing  upon  a  real  stage 
and  singing  as  an  infant  prodigy  before  a  real  audience  of  adults ; 
at  fifteen,  a  full-fledged  performer  in  a  circus,  and  before  I  at- 
tained my  majority,  a  manager  and  proprietor  of  amusement 
ventures. 

My  father,  who  was  a  very  skilful  musician,  was  a  prominent 
soloist  in  a  grand  orchestra  that  gave  promenade  concerts  in  the 
Old  Castle  Garden  on  the  style  of  the  Julien  concerts,  afterward 
so  famous  in  Europe  and  America.  He  also  was  for  a  long  time 
one  of  the  orchestra  of  the  Park  Theater  in  its  earliest  days, 
when  the  life  of  New  York  city  was  all  below  Canal  Street,  and 
Bleecker  Street  was  to  the  city  what  upper  Fifth  Avenue  is  to- 
day, and  often  have  I  listened  with  wonder  to  his  narration  of 
events  that  had  come  to  his  notice  when  he  would  relate  to  my 
mother  the  scenes  at  the  theater,  with  bits  of  chat  and  gossip  of 

71 


72  Cljeatrita!  Caricature^ 


t  he  society  folk  who  attended,  the  popular  actors,  and  the  excit- 
ing plays.  All  these  little  bits  were  working  toward  my  destiny, 
"this  life  upon  the  stage,"  where  I  have  wrought  with  more  or  less 
success  from  childhood  to  manhood,  surrounded  often  by  diffi- 
culty, rewarded  with  some  triumphs  attended  with  many  happy 
incidents,  some  sorrows,  much  that  has  been  of  delight,  and  at 
length  into  the  pleasanter  waters  of  established  favor,  where  I 
now  glide  along  thankful  to  friends,  and  with  a  happy,  kindly 
affection  for  fellows. 

My  first  managerial  difficulty  came  with  my  first  managerial 
effort.  I  was  then  about  eight  years  of  age,  and  was  the  leader 
of  a  dozen  boys  who  organized  a  theatrical  performance  to  be 
presented  in  the  cellar  of  my  father's  house.  Our  first  proceed- 
ing was  to  pack  to  one  side  the  winter's  fuel,  which  in  those 
days  was  principally  of  wood,  coal  being  as  yet  a  luxury.  Then 
from  our  mothers'  household  stores  we  abstracted  sundry  quilts, 
curtains,  bits  of  furniture,  and  other  properties,  all  of  which 
were  quietly  conveyed  to  our  theater  (the  cellar)  with  great  cau- 
tion, because  my  father  was  much  at  home  in  the  daytime,  and 
would  not  countenance  our  transactions.  In  fact,  to  him  was 
due  the  ultimate  failure  of  the  project,  and  the  abandonment  of 
our  grand  company,  as  will  appear  later  on.  Well,  having  got- 
ten together  the  needed  articles,  we  constructed  a  proscenium  of 
clothes-horses  and  bed-quilts,  a  drop-curtain  purloined  from 
some  mother's  camphor-chest,  a  stage  built  upon  upright  barrels, 
and  seats  of  neatly  piled  cordwood.  Then  came  the  great  diffi- 
culty—  the  scenery.  We  could  never  get  along  without  that,  so 
I  decided  to  sacrifice  one  of  my  mother's  best  linen  sheets,  and 
with  burnt  cork  for  crayon,  I  depicted  the  battlements  of  an 
English  castle,  with  a  background  sadly  lacking  in  perspective. 

Our  preparations  being  all  complete,  we  eagerly  awaited  the 
coming  of  Saturday's  holiday  from  school,  when  we  should  be 
able  to  give  our  first  performance.  In  due  course  the  time 
came  around,  and  our  audience  assembled,  paying  their  admission 
fee  in  pins,  marbles,  and  other  bric-a-brac  usual  in  boys'  barter. 
Our  play  was  extempore  and  Richard  III  bore  strange  resem- 
blance to  Hamlet,  Nick  of  the  Woods,  and  Schnapps  in  the 


CJjcatrical  Caricatured  73 


"  Naiad  Queen,"  while  Ophelia  danced  a  hornpipe  with  Macbeth 
or  Falstafft  I  don't  remember  exactly  which  at  this  time.  I  sang 
coinic  songs,  but  was  compelled  to  stop  in  the  midst  of  the  strain 
to  caution  the  boys  to  suppress  their  enthusiasm  and  its  atten- 
dant noise,  for  I  knew  my  respected  papa  would  not  relish  the 
proceedings  should  they  come  to  his  notice.  However,  we  es- 
caped any  trouble  from  that  source,  and  the  following  Saturday, 
emboldened  by  success,  we  were  less  cautious.  One  of  the  boys, 
afterward  a  well-known  actor,  was  shouting  for  a  horse,  the 
audience  were  shouting  themselves  hoarse,  when  with  utter  ter- 
ror I  recognized  the  familiar  creak  of  my  father's  boots  coming 
down  the  stairs.  I  gave  the  cue  to  run,  and  without  disrobing 
our  mimic  kings  and  queens  tumbled  over  the  audience  in  a  mad 
race  for  the  street.  The  wild  scramble  so  amused  my  parent 
that  he  forgot  to  be  angry,  and  so  I  escaped  punishment. 

At  the  time  of  this  escapade  I  was  a  pupil  at  the  Thames  Street 
school,  and  at  one  of  our  exhibitions  received  a  prize  for  elocu- 
tion. My  recitation  was  entitled  "  You  'd  Scarce  Expect  One  of 
My  Age  " ;  and  having  at  that  time  attracted  the  attention  of 
some  visitors,  I  was  selected  to  aid  in  a  temperance  revival,  then 
in  progress  at  Dey  Street  Hall,  by  the  Hand  in  Hand  Society, 
where  I  made  my  de"but  as  a  public  entertainer,  and  was  launched 
upon  the  career  that  destiny  had  carved  for  me. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing  negro  minstrelsy  was  in 
its  earliest  days  and  a  mere  skeleton  of  what  it  has  since  be- 
come. Minstrel  bands  then  consisted  of  five  or  six  performers, 
without  orchestra  other  than  the  banjo,  bones,  tambourine,  tri- 
angle, or  jawbone.  I  had  seen  the  original  Virginia  Serenaders 
at  the  Park  Theater,  and  was  ambitious  to  be  an  end  man,  or,  as 
our  English  cousins  term  them,  "a  corner  man."  One  day  I 
had  the  good  fortune  to  find  on  the  street  a  two-dollar  bill, 
which  I  invested  forthwith  in  a  tambourine  and  a  negro  wig, 
made  in  those  days  of  cloth  listing.  I  soon  joined  with  a  party 
who  were  giving  concerts  on  the  steamboat  Raritan,  Captain 
Fisher,  which  then  plied  between  New  York  city  and  Staten 
Island,  my  object  being  to  gain  experience  and  practice  until  a 
better  opportunity  should  offer  for  presenting  my  genius  to  an 

10 


74  €l)catrical  Caricature^ 


admiring  public.  My  next  move  was  to  attach  myself  to  a  min- 
strel band  then  showing  at  Croton  Hall,  at  Division  and  Chatham 
streets.  I  was  not  employed,  but  was  rather  a  volunteer,  and 
used  to  carry  water  for  the  comedian. 

At  Croton  Hall  I  got  an  occasional  opportunity  to  display  my 
ability ;  but  my  father  now  interfered  and  sent  me  off  to  the 
country  to  "  cure  me  of  the  nonsense,"  but  my  dear  parent  could 
not  hew  out  my  career  in  the  rough.  I  was  no  sooner  in  the 
country  than  I  was  in  full  blast  as  an  amateur  entertainer,  and 
the  whole  country  grew  to  know  Tony  Pastor  "  the  clever  boy 
from  New  York."  My  services  were  in  demand  for  parties  and 
church  affairs.  On  one  occasion,  while  traveling  a  country  road, 
a  young  farmer  stopped  me  and  caused  me  to  mount  a  hay 
wagon  and  do  a  song  and  dance  for  the  amusement  of  his  hay- 
makers, put  a  dollar  in  my  hand,  and  sent  me  on  my  way.  I 
soon  tired  of  country  life  and  returned  to  New  York,  and  my 
parents,  seeing  that  my  inclination  could  not  be  diverted,  gave 
up  their  opposition,  and  I  entered  the  service  of  P.  T.  Barnum 
at  the  famous  Barnum's  Museum,  corner  of  Broadway  and  Ann 
streets,  where  I  was  regarded  as  a  sort  of  infant  prodigy,  and 
where  I  attracted  the  attention  of  Colonel  Alvan  Mann,  one  of 
the  proprietors  of  Raymond  &  Waring's  Menagerie,  who  en- 
gaged me  as  an  end  man, —  or  rather  end  boy,  as  I  was  not  yet 
fourteen  years  old, —  and  I  went  out  into  the  world  at  last  as  a 
performer ;  and  my  dream  was  at  length  realized. 

Having  become  a  professional  performer  I  soon  felt  the  mana- 
gerial bee  buzzing  in  my  bonnet ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  I 
started  my  first  venture  in  this  wise.  At  that  time  the  menagerie 
and  circus  did  not  perform  at  night,  day  performances  only  being 
deemed  profitable  in  the  country  towns.  I  organized  a  concert 
troupe  and  minstrel  show,  and  would  hire  a  school  or  court- 
house, or  the  dining-room  of  the  hotel,  as  the  case  might  be,  and 
announcing  the  same  from  the  ring  in  the  afternoon,  would  gen- 
erally have  a  good  audience  to  reward  us.  As  the  expense  gen- 
erally was  at  zero  the  profits  were  considerable ;  but  the  mana- 
gers of  the  menagerie  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  my  making  too 
much  money,  and  they  put  a  stop  to  my  concerts. 


€l)eatrical  Caricature^  75 


Defeated,  but  not  conquered,  I  purchased  a  number  of  illus- 
trated periodicals,  and  cutting  out  the  pictures,  mounted  them 
on  muslin  strips  in  panorama  style.  I  started  a  peep  show. 
This  consisted  of  a  box-wagon  with  small  peep-holes  in  sides 
and  rear,  with  a  tin  reflector  at  the  top  to  throw  the  light  upon 
the  muslin,  which  gave  the  pictures  a  transparent  appearance, 
yet  sharply  defined.  A  team  of  horses,  a  bass  drum,  and  plenty 
of  red,  white,  and  blue  calico  completed  the  outfit ;  and  with  this 
I  would  take  my  stand  in  the  market-place,  or  alongside  the 
menagerie  entrance,  and  with  the  beating  of  drum  and  clanging 
of  cymbals  announce  "  a  grand  panorama  of  the  world,  all  to 
be  seen  for  a  sixpence," —  a  piece  of  money  now  obsolete,  but  at 
that  time  our  principal  small  coin,  its  value  six  and  one  quarter 
cents,  and  in  the  different  sections  of  our  country  variously 
termed  "  sixpence,"  "  ftp,"  and  " picayune."  Again  the  current 
of  currency  flowed  toward  my  pockets.  I  became  a  walking  de- 
pository of  small  coin  —  dimes,  half  dimes,  sixpences,  and  shil- 
lings weighed  me  down,  and  I  became  the  Crcesus  of  our  com- 
pany. But,  alas !  again  the  demon  of  jealousy  and  avarice  was 
on  my  track  —  this  time  the  village  constable.  I  was  proclaim- 
ing the  wonders  of  my  panorama  when  he  came  along,  and 
without  paying  the  fee,  proceeded  to  enjoy  my  show.  I  de- 
manded payment,  which  he  refused.  I  protested  in  vigorous 
style,  when,  displaying  his  shield,  he  yanked  me  before  the 
Town  Council  for  doing  business  without  a  license.  They  fined 
me  $10  for  the  offense,  $10  for  obstructing  the  roadway,  and  if 
I  had  not  kept  quiet,  would  have  fined  me  $10  more  for  con- 
tempt of  court.  T  pleaded  inability  to  pay,  and  they  confiscated 
my  wagon.  I  disclaimed  ownership  of  the  horses,  or  they  would 
have  kept  them  also.  And  thus  ended  speculation  number  two. 

Defeated  in  my  concerts  and  my  peep  show,  I  cast  about  for  a 
new  effort,  and  at  length  induced  Mr.  George  Bunnell,  who 
with  his  brother  was  owner  of  a  small  snake  exhibit  with  the 
menagerie,  to  join  me  in  organizing  an  annex  show  given  in  an 
extra  tent  under  license  from  our  proprietors,  with  the  snakes 
and  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Joseph  Hazlett,  a  violinist,  and  the 
two  children  of  Mr.  Charles  Sherwood,  a  rider  in  the  big  show. 


76  €|>eatrical  Caricature^ 


We  gave  quite  a  concert,  dividing  the  profits  one  half  to  Bunnell, 
and  one  quarter  each  to  Hazlett  and  myself.  This  was  a  great 
success,  and  I  saved  my  money. 

I  followed  circus  life  for  some  years,  being  successively  ring- 
master, clown,  and  actor,  creating  a  Yankee  part  with  Levi  P. 
North's  circus  at  Chicago  in  a  horse  drama  —  "The  Days  of 
'76."  After  this  I  made  my  appearance  in  New  York  at  the 
Old  Bowery  as  a  stage  clown,  in  a  play  called  "  The  Monster  of 
St.  Michel's."  This  was  before  the  advent  of  George  L.  Fox, 
who  afterward  achieved  fame  and  fortune  as  a  stage  clown  in  the 
same  house.  I  also  appeared  at  the  Bowery  in  comedy  rdles, 
playing  principal  comedy  in  "  Tippoo  Sahib,"  a  burlesque  founded 
on  the  Anglo-Indian  mutiny.  At  that  time  there  flourished  in 
the  Bowery  a  social  coterie  called  "  The  Side-pocket  Club  " —  a 
number  of  young  men  who,  being  always  ready  for  fun,  pre- 
vailed upon  the  stage  manager  to  let  them  go  on  as  supers  for 
one  night  only.  In  the  action  of  the  play  was  a  battle  between 
the  Sepoys  and  the  British  troops,  with  cannon  fired  from  the 
back  of  elephants  and  other  East  Indian  realism.  The  British, 
of  course,  were  the  victors ;  but  the  Side-pocket  boys,  led  on  by 
Dan  Kerrigan,  turned  the  tables,  and,  as  Indians,  beat  the  Brit- 
ish army  of  paid  supers,  putting  them  to  rout,  and  driving  Jo- 
seph Foster,  the  stage  manager,  distracted.  The  battle  raged 
until  the  curtain  was  rung  down. 

In  1861,  the  mutterings  of  the  trouble  that  was  soon  to  burst 
on  us  with  all  its  awful  carnage  and  woe  appalled  the  proprietors 
of  circuses  and  menageries,  and  I  sought  in  the  variety  theaters 
the  employment  that  the  tented  arena  gave  but  little  promise  of. 
I  sang  at  Rivers'  Melodeon  in  Philadelphia  and  later  at  Butler's 
American  Theater,  more  popularly  known  as  ^44  Broadway, 
where  I  remained  four  years.  One  afternoon  my  attention  was 
attracted  by  the  crowds  wending  their  way  toward  Union 
Square.  I  inquired  the  cause ;  the  dreaded  answer  came :  "  The 
war  has  begun!  Fort  Sumter  has  been  fired  upon!"  Here 
was  the  culmination  of  all  the  past  year's  anxiety  and  apprehen- 
sion. I  mused  on  the  situation,  and  somehow  I  did  not  feel  like 
singing  comic  songs  that  night.  I  went  to  a  music-store  and 


CJjcatrical  Caricature^  77 


bought  "The  Star  Spangled  Banner."  I  committed  the  words 
to  memory,  and  that  night  asked  the  audience  to  join  me  in  its 
chorus.  Such  a  chorus  and  such  a  cheer  as  went  up  at  that 
theater !  I  never  heard  its  like  before  ;  I  never  shall  again.  It 
was  enthusiasm.  But  it  was  dreadful  enthusiasm.  It  meant 
war;  it  meant  that  which  is  now  history  —  that  struggle  for  the 
grand  old  Union  !  It  meant  that  those  young  men  would  give 
their  blood  to  wipe  out  the  stain !  That  the  Star- Spangled 
Banner  should  not  be  trailed  in  the  dust ! 

My  experience  at  No.  444  opened  up  the  idea  that  in  the  va- 
riety show  there  was  an  opportunity  waiting  for  the  man  —  the 
man  who  would  disentangle  it  from  cigar-smoking  and  beer- 
drinking  accompaniment,  and  I  determined  to  make  the  effort.  I 
laid  my  plans  before  my  friends.  Some  shook  their  heads ;  others 
said  the  idea  was  good  and  buttoned  their  pockets;  others  en- 
thused only  to  grow  cold  soon  after,  until  at  length  Sam  Sharpley, 
the  minstrel  manager,  joined  hands  with  me,  and  we  made  our 
first  bid  for  lady  patronage  at  Paterson,  N.  J.,  on  March  21, 
1865.  Our  success  was  good,  but  it  took  a  long  while  to  induce 
the  ladies  to  attend  in  any  considerable  number.  From  Pater- 
son  we  journeyed  to  other  towns,  advertising  freely  and  pledg- 
ing our  reputation  that  the  show  should  in  no  sense  offend. 
That  has  ever  been  my  trademark,  and  our  moderate  success 
became  positive,  until  to-day  the  variety  show  no  longer  is  re- 
garded as  an  outcast,  but  takes  its  turn  in  the  best  houses  of 
America  and  enjoys  an  equal  share  of  the  best  patronage. 

On  the  night  of  July  31, 1865,  Mr.  Sharpley  and  myself  opened 
at  No.  201  Bowery,  New  York  city,  "Tony  Pastor's  Opera 
House,"  on  the  site  of  the  present  People's  Theater.  Mr. 
Sharpley  remained  my  partner  for  one  season  and  retired,  leav- 
ing me  with  the  battle  scarcely  half  won  —  leaving  me  sole 
owner  of  an  idea  —  an  idea  I  have  worked  upon,  until  to-day  I 
am  proud  to  say  that  I  have  demonstrated  into  a  fact  that  the 
specialty  stage  is  a  valuable  school  to  the  actor;  that  its  possi- 
bilities were  greater  than  even  its  votaries  then  believed,  and  to- 
day it  enjoys  not  only  public  favor,  but  popular  distinction,  while 
its  foster  child,  farce  comedy,  is  now  the  public  furore. 


€f>eatrical  Caricature^ 


I  remained  in  the  Bowery  ten  years,  going  thence  to  Nos.  585 
and  587  Broadway,  where  I  remained  six  years,  and  finally  to 
my  present  location  in  Fourteenth  Street,  where  I  have  been 
for  nine  years. 

In  my  career  I  have  always  endeavored  to  extend  encourage- 
ment to  the  young  artist.  On  my  stage  many  estimable  actors 
and  actresses  who  now  soar  high  in  the  dramatic  firmament  have 
first  tried  their  wings.  The  list  is  too  well  known  to  require  men- 
tion here.  Suffice  it  to  say  I  have  always  tried  to  nourish  bud- 
ding talent ;  to  say,  "  Well  done,  my  boy !  "  or  "  Bravo,  lassie  !  " 
and  thus  cheer  them  to  braver  efforts ;  and  I  have  reaped  the 
reward.  In  the  hundreds  I  could  name  there  is  not  one  who 
has  proved  ungrateful  —  a  noble  record  for  a  noble  profession. 


XC ! 04622 


M205G35 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


